Staffan’s face hardened. “Love me so much she couldn’t help kissing you earlier?”
Donovan went white. “Shit.”
Alan said the same thing in his mind, stunned at the implications of Staffan’s words. He had told Donovan what happened so he wasn’t worried about what his lover was thinking. But none of them had counted Staffan seeing the confrontation between him and his father, much less realize how Staffan could have misinterpreted everything so dreadfully.
“It’s not what you think,” Alan said tiredly. Now, his head was hurting more than his body. What a bloody mess everything had turned out to be, and it was all because of the goddamn lie that he was living.
Staffan cursed. “Do you take me for a f**king fool to think I’d believe you after what---”
“What you saw,” Alan cut him off tersely, “was Sa---”
Staffan had an insane impulse to punch Carson again and for the simple fact that he knew Saffi’s true name.
Alan corrected himself, “What you saw was H saving my life.”
“It just keeps getting better,” Staffan drawled out sarcastically.
Alan gritted his teeth. “She was saving my life because she saw my father wanting to kill me and did what she could to stop it.” He took a deep breath. “My father wanted to know if I’m g*y.”
Staffan went completely still, his agile mind able to connect the dots in a painfully quick sequence. Suddenly, everything that happened rearranged itself like puzzle pieces forming a new picture.
“No,” he whispered.
Alan took Donovan’s hands. “And I am. We both are. H agreed to keep it a secret, and when she saw what was happening earlier---she pretended she was my girlfriend.”
Staffan bent his head as the enormity of what he had done crashed on him. Oh God. What the f**k had he done? Suddenly, all he could hear was Saffi calling his name, pleading him to stop, telling him she loved him.
She had loved him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, and now all he could see was the broken look in her face as he had forced her to watch him play with another woman. Something occurred to him, the odd way Saffi had held her body, and his head shot up as he demanded hoarsely, “Saffi? Did she get hurt, too?”
Alan flinched at the memory of his father’s kick landing on Saffi’s side and her cry of pain.
The look in the other man’s face filled Staffan with a savage need to hit Carson’s father, especially when Carson revealed, “She may have a broken rib or two.”
He gazed at Bob and then the doorway leading to the stage, torn between his desire and duty. Finally, he told his bodyguard, “Find her. Do anything – everything – to find her.” Fear struck his heart at the thought of Saffi walking alone, hurt in every way. He would do everything to win her back, f**king beg on his knees, shave his head, and cut his hand if he had to. But first he needed to know she was safe and cared for.
“She loved you, you know,” Carson said behind him.
The words whipped his heart because he knew he didn’t deserve them.
Oh God, what had he done?
An hour had passed and Saffi was still nowhere to be found. The heavy look on Bob’s face when he came back a few minutes ago was enough to tell Staffan that the other man’s search had been futile.
Desperate and terrified that something had happened to Saffi, Staffan decided to end the ruse of not knowing who she was by calling her. Explanations could be made later – right now he needed to ensure that she was all right.
“Come on, Saffi.” He waited tensely as he kept getting a busy signal from Saffi’s phone. A part of him knew it wouldn’t – couldn’t – be this easy to get a hold of Saffi again. Why should it be when God gave him his own angel - his very own Alice, who said her Wonderland was any place that had him in it – just for Staffan to f**king throw it away?
Outside, the screams were getting louder and more frenzied.
His PA said nervously, “Staffan, you have just a minute---”
“I know that,” he gritted out. “Just give me that goddamn minute.” He redialed her number one last time, and his world shattered when an automated voice told him that the phone was out of coverage area.
Staffan closed his eyes.
Saffi.
He saw her so vividly his heart stopped beating, and he had to deliberately stop his hands from reaching out to touch her.
How could he have hurt her so goddamn much?
~~~
Anorexic arrowana. Back-flipping bangus. Chocolate-loving cod. Drunk duckbill. Epileptic eel. Farting frogfish. Goddamn giant sea bass. Heartbroken haddock---
Saffi’s mind came into a painful standstill at the words, the game that she had loved playing with herself ever since she was a kid suddenly losing its ability to comfort her. All these years, her mind had been both her bane and her haven. It made Saffi different from the rest, but it also came up with the most astounding ways to protect herself from other people’s scorn and cruelty.
But now even that was gone, Staffan taking away the one thing Saffi could always count on to keep her sane.
Slowly, she bent her head down and cried.
The sobs were quiet but heart-wrenching, the sounds paining everyone who heard it. And everyone in Steel March’s private flight crew did hear it and wholeheartedly hated whoever it was that had broken Saffi’s heart.
When the plane started to descend, Saffi forced herself to stop crying, desperately wiping the tears away as she fixed herself. Any one of her family could be waiting for her, and she didn’t want any of them to see her this way. Saffi had caused them so much hurt already and it would kill her to turn them into a laughingstock once again.
The entire crew discreetly kept their gazes off Saffi’s face as they bid her goodbye and escorted her of the plane. The person waiting for her at the foot of the wheeled staircase made Saffi catch her breath.
Steel, thank you.
Everyone thought she was the smartest one in the family, but she wasn’t. Saffi had always known the honor belonged to Steel, who never failed to be several steps ahead of everyone with his cunning ability to read and predict other people’s thoughts and actions.
And because she was his baby sister, Steel had known how she would have hated any one of them – even Steel himself – see her like this. He probably knew it the moment she called him and said ‘hello’ in a tear-clogged voice.
She reached the end of the steps and finally lifted her gaze.
Looking back at her with unreadable eyes was a tall dark-haired man, his handsome face showing no clue to his thoughts. His expensive black suit fit his lean hard body to perfection, and he wore it like he was born in it. And he was, in a way, for he was the bastard son of a prince.